Silverstar
by Shapeshifter of Farsight
Summary: The squirrel Maiko quests to become the highest rank in her tribe, but, with the help a fox and ferret, must save Redwall and her own Silverstar tribe from a new danger. Please review, I'm new at this.
1. Maikolar, warrior of the Silverstar

Chapter 1  
  
A lone figure trekked through Mossflower Wood. The squirrel was in no great hurry, she was far more interested in enjoying the beautiful spring morning than getting to her destination quickly. Raindrops from the former night's downpour had settled on leafy boughs like drops of crystal, trembling slightly each time a gentle breeze cared to pass their way. High above, birds of all kinds trilled and whistled their joy for this new, warm spring day.  
Condensation had formed on the squirrel's silvery white fur. The squirrel didn't mind at all, but she wiped the water carefully off the strange weapon she carried. It was like a spear on one end, with a large metal hook on the shaft just below the spearhead. On the other end was a double-edged sword blade, long and sharp. In the middle of the shaft, for grip, decoration, and also signification of rank was a wide silver band with the squirrel's name inlaid with ebony: Maikolar.  
Maiko knew her swordspear's metal was good and didn't rust easily, but she took no chances. If she let it get even a single speck of rust she would never be elevated to blademark, the highest rank of swordspear. Maiko was on the second season of her eight-season blademark quest. At the moment she was traveling to Redwall Abbey, a legendary place she had heard stories of since she could barely speak. Though her tribe were warriors, she would welcome some peace and friendship after the hardships of her journey.  
Maiko closed her eyes, savoring everything; the damp loam underpaw, the sharp, spicy scents of the towering majestic trees around her, the sweet birdsong that was so rarely heard in her homeland, the very taste of the slightly humid forest air. She sighed and opened her eyes. She still had almost seven seasons left, but she must not spend it all enjoying the forest. After a few days at Redwall, she planned to journey west to the mountain Salamandastron, and from there go up the coast and find or make herself a boat to sail to an island and record the customs and traditions of its inhabitance for the Great Library of the Eastern Hills that her tribe had made. However, blademark quests rarely went as planned, and sometimes the one questing never returned.  
Shoving these dark thoughts from her mind, Maiko continued to make her way south-west, to Redwall. 


	2. Keeva and Sharno, alone and lost

Chapter 2  
  
A young vixen and a young ferret, barely out of Dibbunhood, stood shivering in the frozen dead grass that frosted the hilltop. They clung to each other for warmth, the chill winds blowing straight through their thick woolen cloaks as though they were made of gauze. The pair was lost and alone. The Silverstar squirrel tribe that had cared for the duo since they had been found as babes whimpering in a shallow den at the edge of Mossflower Wood was far away, much farther than either of them could walk without collapsing from hunger or exhaustion.  
The fox stamped her paw angrily, wincing as the tiny sharp ice crystals cut into it, leaving the brown grass speckled with blood.  
"Sharno, I knew we should have stayed with Maiko, sacred blademark quest or not. Now we're going to freeze to death out here in the middle of nowhere, unless you can come up with one of your brilliant ideas."  
The vixen, Keeva, firmly believed in Sharno's "brilliant ideas", more than Sharno himself did. But now, for the first time in his life, stranded on this desolate freezing hill, which was, truly, as Keeva had said, "in the middle of nowhere", no spark of genius came to Sharno.  
He tried to quell the despair that began to fill him by thinking back to what had brought them to this stark place. When he and Keeva had heard that Maikolar was going on her blademark quest, they had begged to come along. Keeva had even forgotten that she was now a responsible member of the tribe and dropped into Dibbun slang, declaring, "We wan' an a'venture!" They had sat for hours discussing good reasons for coming along. Finally Maiko, being rather softhearted, had consented, on condition that Keeva and Sharno only came with her to the very edge of Mossflower. Then they were to go back a little ways until they met a squirrel who would be waiting to bring them back to the tribe. That was where things had gone wrong. Somehow, when they went back they had gone in the wrong direction and ended up here, in the freezing northern reaches of the Eastern Hills.  
"We could follow our tracks back to Mossflower, then try to actually go east this time," Sharno suggested timidly. Keeva could get into a rage at anything when she was scared.  
But apparently the numbing cold had extinguished Keeva's angry fire, because she only sighed and replied wearily, "That's not brilliant, it's obvious. The ground is too hard for us to have left any tracks. I suppose we'll just have to wait for a search party to find us, if we don't freeze or starve to death first."  
Both creatures were sure search parties would be sent out when the two of them didn't return. If any tribe member went missing, most normal duties would be called off immediately to search for them. The tribe would continue searching determinedly until the missing one was found.  
The two creatures snuggled closer together, their cloaks flapping in the wind like tattered flags on an ancient deserted battlefield. They were the only living things in leagues of a maze of snowy hills. 


	3. Kuna Cherra, the Gray One

I know it's a bit late, but just in case I have to say this, I didn't make up Redwall and don't take credit for it.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Not so far away from the two pitiful, freezing creatures, another pair was discussing something else entirely. Hill upon almost identical grassy hill surrounded two villainous looking weasels, effectively discouraging and confusing them.  
"It's that way, yew blubberin' buffoon," the weasel scout Warttail shouted at his comrade, pointing vaguely south.  
"No it ain't, the horde's that way. Any fool wid one eye an' 'alf a brain can see that!" snapped the other weasel, Blewflit, pointing in the opposite direction.  
"What gave yew that stupid idea, wormbelly?"  
"I can actually scout, that's wot gave me my clever idea, soupbrain!"  
"Scout! Ha! Yew couldn't find yore way back to camp if yew had my paw prints t' follow, clear as day!"  
Blewflit sighed. "Come on matey, no use arguin' over it, Ol' Kuna w'll skin us alive if we come back late."  
At the mention of the gray fox's name Warttail shuddered, and a chill crept through his spine that didn't have anything to do with the cold climate.  
"We should go, mate," he said quietly. "You know 'tis bad luck, sayin' the Gray One's name away from camp. Y'know, I think it's that way."  
Holding paws firmly, the now thoroughly terrified scouts stumbled off in what they hoped was the direction of the rest of the horde.  
  
In the center of an odd ring of hills, the camp of Kuna Cherra sat like a cruel, hideous beast in the midst of peace and beauty. Small grimy tents took up most of the available space, with campfire ashes strewn around them like pitiful offerings to some horrid deity of dirt. Seven hundred-odd war- like creatures of all kinds, rats, weasels, ferrets, stoats, one wildcat and several foxes dressed in tattered, stained tunics almost as dirty as their tents and carrying all manner of weapons from swords to blow-darts lounged about, eating, sharpening or cleaning weapons, napping, and playing cards. But all activity ceased when the Gray One strode from his clean silken tent.  
The mere sight of him was enough to chill any creature's blood. Completely silver-gray from nose to tail tip, the large fox had flat, emotionless blue-gray eyes like chips of dirty ice. His only garment was a kilt made from the pelt of a Silverstar squirrel he had slain long ago. The only weapon he carried was the squirrel's swordspear. It had a blademark, so its user had been very skilled with it - but not as skilled as Kuna Cherra. Kuna had easily disarmed the squirrel with his bare paws and used the squirrel's own swordspear to kill him. Kuna was different from other warlords. His horde greatly feared and respected him, but he almost never unjustly punished them. Unjustly in his opinion, that is.  
Kuna Cherra was well aware that his hordebeasts called him "Ol' Kuna", but while any other warlord would have ranted and raved and executed anybeast who he suspected to have called him that, Kuna took it as a compliment and mark of respect.  
Now, as came out of his tent, carrying the swordspear as he always did, with not a trace of emotion or feelings of any kind on his face, all hordebeasts immediately threw themselves flat on the ground, roaring in one voice, "Mighty leader, who shall one day rule the Silverstar and all of the country, mightier than the badger lord of Salamandastron, Lord Kuna Cherra!"  
Kuna watched this display impassively, before barking, "Thornlock!"  
The tawny wildcat Thornlock scrambled to her feet and loped over to him. She gave an ungainly bow before standing beside him, his faithful second-in-command.  
"Listen, allbeasts," Thornlock called in her light, piercing voice. "The mighty Lord Kuna Cherra wishes to address his horde."  
Instantly everybeast was silent, listening carefully to what Kuna had to say.  
"Long, too long we have stayed in this one camp, not fit to travel, just barely able to hunt and forage what we need to survive." Kuna Cherra did not have to raise his voice at all to be heard by everybeast. "Look at yourselves. You have become lazy and fat, out of practice fighting from seasons without the need to. I believe it is time to change that. Have any of you heard of the abbey of Redwall?"  
Most of the horde called out, "Aye!" in practiced unison, but one stoat shook his head, knowing that he would not be punished for simple ignorance.  
"Redwall Abbey," Kuna continued, "is a marvelous place. It is rich, well stocked, and well fortified. It lies in the center of Mossflower Wood. Imagine, if I possessed it. The day you say shall come that I rule all the country would not be long in coming if I did. It would be far easier, as well, to destroy the Silverstar and all their idiotic ways."  
No beast, except perhaps Thornlock, knew why Kuna despised the Silverstar so much, and no beast really cared. The horde had unsuccessfully tried to conquer the Silverstar, or at least burn down the Great Library, several times. Now most hordebeasts only wanted to stay as far away from the Silverstar as possible.  
The gray fox closed his eyes briefly, savoring that dream. Those sniveling little squirrels, bound before him, awaiting his decision of their fate and begging for mercy. Oh, they would beg for mercy. Kuna knew how much the Silverstar valued their own pathetic lives, and how much they feared death. He would enjoy his moment of triumph and vengeance, watching the horrified looks on their faces as they were sent off to their deaths.  
"Lord Kuna," Thornlock hissed in his ear, "The plan."  
Thornlock was the only beast who dared call the fox Kuna to his face, instead of his full name, Kuna Cherra. Kuna was annoyed at Thornlock for disturbing his dream, but he didn't let it show. He would deal with her later.  
"I have thought long and hard about capturing the abbey," he said, "And I have concluded that if we tried to, the Silverstar would help the abbey dwellers, and we would not have a chance. However, if I split the horde into two groups and one group tried to capture Redwall while the other group kept the Silverstar busy, we may stand a chance."  
Kuna Cherra gave a ghostly smile reminiscent of a vampire anticipating its next meal.  
"I know your thoughts. You think, so many warlords with hordes of thousands have tried to get Redwall and failed. How can only half of my horde succeed?"  
There were murmurs of agreement among the hordebeasts. Kuna raised his swordspear into the air and roared, "Speak up!"  
"Aye, Lord, those are our thoughts," everybeast in the horde said, as was expected.  
Kuna Cherra, the Gray One, warlord of a powerful horde, self- appointed ruler of the northern stretches of the Eastern Hills, smiled his vampire smile and said softly, "Leave that to me." 


	4. Rescued by the enemy

Chapter 4  
  
Keeva was on the verge of tears. She and Sharno had become so cold and exhausted that they had wrapped their cloaks around themselves like blankets and lay down in the icy dead grass which seemed as prickly as stinging nettles, trying to get to sleep. But they couldn't. The harsh, cold wind had frozen Keeva's eyes open, and as she stared at the seething, roiling, stormy gray sky, tiny light snowflakes began drift downward. They stung Keeva's wide-open eyes, but Keeva barely noticed; every ounce of her force of will was bent upon staying alive, staying conscious. She dimly heard Sharno whisper hoarsely beside her, his strength nearly gone, "Look at the sky. This is no light snowfall. It's going to be a full-fledged storm. Unless some miracle happens, we're not going to survive it."  
Keeva didn't reply. She tried to blink, tried to move some part of her body, tried to assure herself that she was alive and would remain so. Death was a Silverstar's worst fear. Even though the fox was not Silverstar born, she had been brought up with Silverstar customs, and therefore had the same fears and beliefs as the Silverstar. Keeva realized that thinking about these things, thinking hard about anything, took her mind off the pain and effort it took to cling to life. She did not know how long she spent, thinking furiously about everything she knew in the Silverstar, ignoring the wind shrieking like a wounded beast, the snowflakes dancing over her numb body. At some point Sharno must have slipped into unconsciousness beside her, because she vaguely remembered feeling his form fall limp inside his cloak and seeing his eyes close.  
The next thing Keeva remembered clearly was a whiny voice calling, "There's a snowstorm brewin', mate. Brr, it's freezin'! If we don't find th' camp soon w'll die of cold!"  
A similar voice, nearer to the fox and ferret, replied, "There've gotta be other shelters if we don't find it."  
Keeva couldn't believe her snow-filled ears. Somebeast had come to rescue them! Maybe it was Thirafel, Maiko's mother, the squirrel who had taken them in and sheltered them, with a search party!  
A weasel popped his head over the top of the hill, completely ruining Keeva's fantasy. His cruel eyes widened as they met Keeva's frozen ones. The weasel shouted over his shoulder, "Oy! Blewflit! Lookit wot I found! A frozen fox!" He climbed on top of the hill and saw Sharno. "And a frozen ferret! Wonder wot those idiots were doin' out in weather like this?  
Blewflit climbed up the hill behind him, grumbling, "Huh, y' may as well ask wot we idiots were doin' out here in weather like this."  
When he saw Keeva and Sharno, he grinned. "They're nice liddle 'uns. Ol' Ku- the Gray One," he checked himself, "He'll like 'em."  
"He might," replied Warttail impatiently, "But even if he will, how're we goin' t' get 'em back to the camp? They might be liddle 'uns, but they're in no fit state to walk, and they're too heavy t' carry. We don' know the way back either."  
"Why don't one of us go back t' look for the camp, while the other stays here by these two?" Blewflit suggested.  
Keeva watched them arguing over who would stay on the hill in horror and amazement. It seemed hers and Sharno's lives would be saved, though they probably had very little chance of surviving in the paws of vermin. Again she tried desperately to move her numb body.  
"Wake up and look around!" She managed to hiss at the unconscious form of Sharno.  
He groaned slightly and opened his eyes a crack. He opened them more when he saw the two weasels. "We're going to die anyway, if they're our rescuers," he whispered.  
It had been decided that since it was Blewflit's idea, he would stay on the hill. He didn't like this at all, but Warttail wouldn't agree to anything else. Warttail stood up and sniffed the air. His cruel features lit up with delight.  
"Ha! I smell burnin'! That could mean only one thing! It must be nearby!" Blewflit slid down the hill quickly. "Where? Let's go!"  
Warttail grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back.  
"Oh no, matey, yew ain't gettin' out of guardin' them that easily. Stay here."  
"But- matey, don't leave me here where the ice spirits can get me."  
"Ice spirits! Don't talk rubbish. Jest stay here with the fox an' ferret an' they won't harm you."  
Keeva had decided that the safest thing to do would be to pretend she and Sharno were as cruel, ruthless, and uneducated as the two weasels. Travelers who visited the Silverstar were often hostile to them because foxes and ferrets were generally evil. Now Keeva could use that to her advantage.  
"We've been here fer hours an' we haven't been bothered by no ice spirits," she said disdainfully, trying to imitate vermin slang.  
"See Blewy, listen t' the vixen. I'm goin' now."  
Blewflit sat down and gloomily watched Warttail leave.  
"Some matey," he grumbled. "'Tain't fair, leavin' poor me at the mercy o' the ice spirits."  
"That other weasel's right," said Sharno, catching on to Keeva's plan, "There's no such thing as ice spirits."  
Blewflit glared at him. "Shuddup. Yore our prisoners now, until the Gray One sees fit t' let ye be hordebeasts. If he does."  
Keeva wriggled around more. She noticed that the more she moved, the less frozen she became. The air, hard ground, and the snow that was now falling quite heavily were just as cold ever, more so, because the sun was blocked out the angry swirling black mass of storm clouds. But now there was a glint of hope that hadn't been there before, and that warmed both Keeva and Sharno as much as anything else.  
Keeva sat up. "What's this 'Gray One' ye keep mentionin'?" she asked, trying to get as much information out of Blewflit ad she could.  
"Yull find out soon enough, fox," Blewflit snapped, "'Tis bad luck t' say his name outside o' the camp. What're yew two's names anyway?"  
"I'm Skublade and this is Ashard," Sharno invented quickly.  
"All right, then," said Blewflit. "Now shuddup."  
The storm had truly started and Keeva and Sharno were hugging each other again, shivering violently, by the time Warttail came back. Snowflakes clung to his greasy brown fur. The deep paw prints he had left in the already ankle-deep snow were swiftly filling, the storm making sure it looked as though no one had ever walked there. The wind pursued clouds of thick snow through the air, obscuring everything with swirling whiteness.  
"I found it!" Warttail shrieked above the noise of the wind. "Follow me!"  
Blewflit roughly grabbed Keeva and Sharno and hauled them up. They both gasped with pain as their stiff, cold limbs moved for the first time in hours.  
"Move yer lazy behinds! Slowness'll be our deaths out 'ere!"  
Blewflit ran after Warttail, dragging Keeva and Sharno along with him. They tried to move on their own, but their paws were too numb and frozen. The pair was dragged through the deepening snow, pulled over snowy hills, bumped over snow-covered rocks. Their world was snow, a barrage of snow-filled wind assaulting their unprotected faces again and again, the tiny sharp crystals of snow on the ground cutting into their bare paws, leaving bloody prints in the infinite snow. Somehow Sharno managed to pull himself upright and do the same for Keeva.  
"There 'tis," said Warttail, stopping on top of a hill.  
The camp was protected from the worst of the storm by the circle of hills. Sharno could see the silhouettes of hordebeasts crouched inside their grubby tents, and the miserable forms of the few unlucky enough to have had their tents destroyed by the storm curled up on the ground trying to keep as warm as possible. Sharno inwardly recoiled with distaste. The Silverstar liked having things clean, and despised almost anything as dirty as those tents.  
Warttail and Blewflit, abandoning the fox and ferret, raced down to the rest of the horde. Keeva and Sharno followed, trying to keep their balance but ending up sliding down.  
"Blewflit! Warttail! Where 'ave yew bin?" a rat called over to them. "Ol' Kuna wants t' see yew. He's gettin' impatient."  
Both weasels went pale.  
"Where is 'e, Ringorn?" Blewflit asked the rat hurriedly. "In 'is tent, as usual?"  
Ringorn nodded. "Ye'd better hurry afore 'e gets too impatient."  
Warttail grabbed Keeva and Sharno and pulled them towards a large clean blue silken tent. "C'mon, yew lucky liddle 'uns, yer in fer an appoin'ment with th' Gray One."  
Even though neither Keeva nor Sharno had ever heard of the "Gray One" before, they both felt a little chill of fear they couldn't explain.  
  
Kuna paced around his tent, oblivious to the raging storm and the misfortunes of his hordebeasts outside. Where in the name of seasons had those weasel scouts got to? The fox's ruthless dark-ice eyes flicked to a corner of the tent, where there was a polished mahogany table he had plundered from a settlement he had destroyed long ago. He reached under the table and undid a hidden latch. A secret drawer opened. Kuna Cherra took out ten razor-sharp metal hollow hooks and carefully fitted them onto his claws. Those weasels would get what they deserved. No beast was late for a meeting with the Gray One!  
Kuna heard a voice outside call very quickly, "Mighty Lord Kuna Cherra, true lord of the Eastern Hills, we bring news!"  
"You are permitted to enter my presence," Kuna replied slowly and evenly.  
Immediately the tent flap was thrown aside and Warttail and Blewflit hurried in, half dragging, half carrying the still slightly frozen Keeva and Sharno. Kuna stared at them in silence.  
"Lord," Warttail began respectfully, careful to talk as smoothly and carefully as he could, for Kuna Cherra did not like the slang he normally used, "We have knowledge that the Silverstar Maikolar has set out on her blademark quest. It is to gather information for the Great Library." Both he and the two friends gasped slightly, for different reasons. For the weasel it was talking like that, which always tired his voice, and for Keeva and Sharno it was the surprise that Warttail and Blewflit knew about Maiko's quest, that they knew what a blademark was at all. Swordspear customs weren't exactly deadly secret, but they were generally not told to anyone who didn't have a close connection with the Silverstar.  
"The Silverstar," Warttail continued, "are not planning anything else big, and remain unaware of our presence."  
"What are these?" Kuna asked tonelessly, pointing at the vixen and ferret with his gleaming metal claws.  
Blewflit took over. "We found them on a hilltop, Lord," he reported, speaking as carefully as Warttail had. "They were frozen almost to death, and we thought you might want to train them to be hordebeasts. The fox is Ashard, and the ferret is Skublade."  
The Gray One nodded. "You have done well. Here is your reward for being late."  
Quick as lightning, Kuna Cherra slashed each weasel across the face hard and deep with his razor-sharp metal claws. The unfortunate scouts screamed and clutched at their mutilated faces, while dripping blood stained the perfect silk floor.  
"Leave," Kuna Cherra commanded calmly, "before you ruin my tent any further."  
Sobbing and wailing, Blewflit and Warttail stumbled off into the howling snowstorm outside.  
  
Keeva and Sharno stared at Kuna, horrified. Sharno had sensed a sort of tenseness in the air from the start, almost as though the weasels had been expecting something like that to happen. Keeva now deeply regretted her decision to trick the scouts into thinking they would make good hordebeasts. She suspected that slow, painful death at the Gray One's claws would be a lot worst than death by freezing.  
"I will always accept creatures into my horde, no matter how young," said Kuna, as though nothing had happened. "You will be expected fight, work, obey me, and say the correct Formalities like any of my beasts. Do this, and you will be rewarded. Shirk or idle, and you will be punished like my scouts." He paused and looked at them hard, his freezing eyes seeming to pierce into their very minds. "You will wonder what a Formality is. A Formality is the proper greeting to me at the right time and place, like the one my scouts said before they entered my tent. Thornlock will issue you weapons, instruct you in their proper uses, and teach you the Formalities."  
A wildcat who had been sitting in the corner so still and silent that Keeva and Sharno hadn't noticed her at all leapt to her feet and said, "I am Thornlock, Lord Kuna Cherra's captain, second only to his noble self. Skublade, Ashard, come with me."  
It was as the two friends were leaving the warm, dry tent for the cold, wet, whirling snow outside that Keeva noticed the swordspear shoved under the mahogany table. As many things as had shocked and horrified her before, none did as much as this. The only way Kuna could have gotten the swordspear would be to slay a Silverstar squirrel.  
"A swordspear," she moaned to her friend. "That horrible villain had a swordspear under the table."  
Sharno's eyes widened and a look of despair flitted across his face like the shadow of a moth across the moon before he composed himself and whispered, "The name, did you see the name?"  
Keeva nodded. "Shazaneer," she replied solemnly.  
"Keep up," snapped Thornlock's voice from somewhere ahead of them. "I don't want to be stuck out in the storm forever."  
As the fox and ferret hurried along behind the wildcat, they silently wondered what cruel fate had forced them seek refuge in this horde of evil, heartless vermin.  
That was when Sharno realized. "In the sacred tongue of the Silverstar," he whispered to Keeva so softly she could barely hear, " 'Kuna Cherra' means 'Power Seeker'." 


	5. Redwall and Silverstar

Disclaimer: I don't own Redwall and I don't want to have to type this at the beginning of every chapter, so this disclaimer counts for every chapter before and after this one. I do own the Silverstar and basically all the characters except the ones that Brian Jacques made up (obviously), such as Martin the Warrior.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
The old mouse with long gray whiskers, clad in a light green habit, strode across the soft bright grass. Dew that clung to the fresh new grass of spring in shimmering, fragile globes brushed off on his bare footpaws. The miniature forest of grass of the abbey lawn radiated the peace and beauty of the fresh, misty morning. The ancient sandstone walls of Redwall Abbey soaked up the warm, welcome sun and glowed with the glory of the new day.  
The gray-whiskered mouse, Ivre, chuckled as he saw three pairs of paws hastily scramble into the new foliage of one of the apple trees in the orchard.  
Pretending he hadn't seen, Ivre looked around and said loudly, trying hard not to smile, "Hmm, I wonder where those three Dibbuns have got to. Reppen! Fribb! Wurtim! I know you took all those candied chestnuts that were supposed be part of breakfast. Come out!" He looked around the orchard thriving with buds and tiny bright new leaves, carefully not looking at the tree the three miscreants were hiding in. He put on a great show of puzzlement and murmured, "Surely the little scamps can't have vanished into thin air."  
There was a loud giggle from the apple tree, followed by a furious shushing. Ivre casually walked over the tree and said, "Of course they couldn't be hiding. here!"  
He reached up into the branches and tickled the velvety footpaws he saw hanging down.  
"Oh, stoppit zurr, Oi'm turribly afeared of falling from this gurt tree, ho urr!"  
The mole Dibbun, Wurtim, stuck his head down from the branches, blinking and chuckling as Ivre stopped tickling his footpaws and stepped back.  
"Wurtim," said an annoyed voice. The mousemaid Fribb dropped out of the tree and landed safely in the lush grass next to Ivre. "You weren' asposed to say we were up here." She turned and glared at the ancient mouse. "It was Rep'n's idea."  
Giving in to the broad smile he had been restraining, Ivre called up into the tree, "Reppen, come down here, you little rogue. Mother Nelfa wants to speak to the three of you."  
With a scowl as big as the smile on Ivre's face, the otter Dibbun, Reppen, the ringleader of the group, slid down the slick, wet surface of the tree trunk. Tiny crystals of sugar from the candied chestnuts stuck in his whiskers. He licked them off frantically as though he wouldn't have a chance to later, which he probably wouldn't, if the imperious badger mother Nelfa had anything to do with it.  
"I don' wanna go see Ma Nelfa," Reppen grumbled. "She's gonna make us go to bed wiv no supper."  
"Of course she won't," said Ivre kindly, "It's just morning. You wouldn't have to sleep the whole day." He took Reppen's paw and led him over the smooth, wet grass toward the abbey building, with Wurtim and Fribb trailing behind.  
Ivre looked around in wonder at the peaceful place. He had been born at the abbey and had lived there all his life, but the beauty and serenity never ceased to amaze him. The calm, silver pond shimmered in the newly risen sun, reflecting the soft beams of light into dancing golden whispers upon its surface. Somewhere within it a fish moved, its sinuous, graceful body slipping smoothly through the glass-clear depths. A solitary song sparrow performed its trilling, whistling, jovial melody in the huge, proud trees that bordered Redwall. The sandstone abbey building and walls reared majestically above lawn, pond, and orchards.  
"'Urry oop, zurr, afore us'ns miss brekkist!" Wurtim tugged Ivre's habit sleeve. Apparently the thought of a confrontation with Nelfa hadn't ruined the young mole's appetite.  
"You've already had your breakfast, you little band of troublemakers, of candied chestnuts meant for other beasts," Ivre scolded gently.  
Looking around guiltily, Fribb reached inside her smock and pulled out a rough sack.  
"We didn' eat all the ches'nuts. We was saving them for later. We would have got sick eating alla dem at once."  
Ivre peered inside the sack. There were a considerable number of chestnuts left, though fewer than half the original number.  
"How do so many chestnuts fit in such tiny creatures?" he asked in mock amazement. "Good thing you didn't eat anymore or you would have exploded!"  
"We're likkle, bu' we have big tummies," announced Reppen, proudly puffing out his.  
As they entered the abbey, a huge female badger, the matriarch of Redwall, swept down on them.  
"So that's where Friar Dahes's candied chestnuts went," she boomed. "Shame on you three. Haven't we taught you to respect others? Why must you take food from other hungry beasts, just to satisfy your own longings?"  
The three Dibbuns cowered behind Ivre. An ottermaid, Azure, chuckled as she was walking by them into Cavern Hole.  
"Go easy on 'em, Nelfa, they're only little 'uns. They don't know any better, right Reppen?"  
The little otter nodded solemnly. "We don' know any better."  
Nelfa harrumphed loudly, as though some great fun had been ruined.  
"All right, you young rips. You'd better return those candied chestnuts to Friar Dahes right now without eating any or else."  
The Dibbuns nodded furiously and scampered off in the direction of the kitchens without bothering to ask what exactly "or else" meant.  
  
Out on the walltops, the mouse Kubrin watched the road, enjoying the peaceful (if rather wet) spring morning like so many other beasts. Kubrin loved the cheer and bustle of the abbey in which he lived, but he was a solitary creature, and enjoyed his time away from all that, up here in the cool morning mist and tranquility of silence, except for the occasional bird call and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Kubrin was the closest the abbey had to a warrior. He was skilled with weapons even though the he didn't posses the sword of Martin the Warrior, as it had been lost for many seasons now, and hated wounding or killing other creatures, he would fight to protect his home.  
"Kubrin?"  
The mouse turned around, knowing who it would be. The squirrelmaid Zulen stood beside him, holding a tray of honeyed scones and fresh mint tea.  
"I brought you breakfast," she told him.  
"Thank you," he replied.  
This was the morning ritual. Kubrin would wake with the rising of the sun to watch the road and see if any travelers came for Redwall's hospitality. When all the other creatures were awake, Zulen would bring him breakfast.  
The squirrel frowned and stared hard into the distant woodland as Kubrin sat down to eat his simple breakfast.  
"I think I can see somebeast coming," she said, "Not down the path, but through the woods."  
Kubrin stood up and looked in the same direction as Zulen, thoughtfully munching a scone. His eyes were better than hers.  
"It's a white squirrel," he exclaimed. "She's clearly heading here. Let's meet her at the gate."  
Kubrin and Zulen rushed down the steps of the wall to the main gate.  
  
Maiko stood in front of Redwall, breathless with the beauty of it. She had heard tales of the place, but none could compare with the real thing. The high, rosy walls didn't seem to disturb or interrupt the nature and forest, but on the contrary seemed to be an eternal, essential part of it. Behind the walls Maiko could just barely see the roof of the abbey building and the top of the bell tower. She knew that inside the walls there would be a pond, and orchard, and creatures would be laughing and playing. Such a contrast to the barren, cold hills of her homeland. "Are you going to stand around there all day marm, or do you want to come in?" A voice hailed her from the abbey. Maiko saw that the main gate was open and a mouse and a squirrel were looking out at her. She ran toward them, her swordspear carried at a practiced angle to keep from cutting herself. The mouse grinned at her. "Well miss, you're just in time for breakfast. I'm Kubrin and this is Zulen." He pointed at the squirrel, who smiled. "I'm Maikolar," she replied in kind, "Daughter of Serrinay and Thiradel, ebony-silver in swordspear, warrior of the Silverstar, on my eight-season blademark quest." Both creatures stared at her for a moment. Then Zulen shrugged and said cheerfully, "Save that for Ivre, he's probably the only beast who can understand it. Do you want breakfast, Maikolar?" It was only then that Maiko realized she hadn't eaten for about two days. Breakfast would be a wonderful relief. "Call me Maiko, please," she said. "I'd love breakfast." Kubrin and Zulen led her into the Redwall. Maiko stared about her in wonder at the orchard, pond, belltower, and rich vegetation of the abbey grounds. Inside the main structure she could hear sounds of creatures talking and laughing and eating. "Come on," said Zulen, "I'm hungry, even if your not. Though you look like you haven't eaten in days." "I haven't," Maiko replied ruefully. These creatures were so kind. The Silverstar were generous, to a certain extent, but the tribe had to be cautious. They would give travelers provisions and directions to wherever they were headed, but didn't encourage them to stay for breakfast. The air inside the abbey was pleasantly cool and quiet. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light that filtered through the high stained glass windows, coloring the floor red and blue and green. A huge female badger greeted them. Maiko had never before seen a full grown badger, and suddenly, for the first time in her life, she felt very small and insignificant compared to the giant creature. "Who's this friend you have brought, Zulen?" she asked with a smile. Zulen grinned back. "Kubrin and I saw her heading here through Mossflower. Her name's Maikolar, Maiko for short." "Welcome to Redwall, Maiko," the badger said warmly. "I am Nelfa. This is a place of peace and friendship; you may stay here for as long as you like. I see from your weapon that you must be a warrior of the Silverstar, the squirrel tribe of the Eastern Hills. Our recorder and scholar Ivre would love to speak with you. But enough of my chatter. You can talk to Ivre over breakfast." Breakfast. What a lovely word. As Maiko thought this, her deprived stomach gave a loud rumble. Zulen began to chuckle, then all four dissolved into helpless laughter. Breakfast at Redwall was the most wonderful meal Maiko had ever had. Not just the food, which was the best Maiko had ever tasted, warm oatmeal, crystallized fruits, fresh mint tea, and hot scones dripping honey, a major difference from the roots, edible fungus, stream water, and occasional seeds or berries the squirrel was used to. It was the talk, too, the friendship and good humor. The old mouse gatehouse keeper Ivre sat next to her. "I've heard of the Silverstar," said Ivre, "and their great library. I would love to travel there, but I am too far in my seasons." He sighed. "What is your family and status? From what I've read that's important for Silverstar, though forgive me if I assume wrongly." Maiko smiled at him. "It's fine. I tried to tell Kubrin and Zulen but they didn't understand." She repeated what she had told the mouse and squirrel. Ivre frowned. "Serrinay?" he asked.  
  
At the mention of her mysterious father, Maiko's good cheer faded away. "He disappeared," she said quietly. "Five seasons ago, he should have returned from his blademark quest. Sometimes questers don't return. I just never thought my father would be one of them." Ivre stared at her. "Five seasons ago," he said as quietly as she had. "A Silverstar squirrel who had lost his swordspear came to our abbey. His name was Serrinay." 


End file.
